


take a look at me now, there's just an empty space

by MagicaLyss



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Foster Care, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Mute Peter Parker, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Touch-Starved Peter Parker, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaLyss/pseuds/MagicaLyss
Summary: As much as Peter does want to disappear to his bedroom and avoid the awkward attempts at a one-sided conversation or inquiries about the life Tony’s read about, he craves the closeness to another person.The last time he felt properly close to someone was May. Every home in between had people who tried or people who didn’t, either way, it never felt the same. He was just another mouth to feed, another set of house visits and questionnaires from Elaine, another troubled kid under their roof. He was never treated like a human being, like a kid.Yet Tony’s in the kitchen, muttering to himself about potential allergies and groceries, someone who’s let him under his roof and is cooking with him in mind. Somebody who chose him. Even if it might be for his alter-ego.It still feels good.It feels good to be wanted.
Relationships: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 35
Kudos: 742
Collections: The Best Irondad/Spiderson Fics, The Best Peter Parker Whump Fics, The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange, ellie marvel fics - read, peter finds his way home





	take a look at me now, there's just an empty space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ironxprince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironxprince/gifts).



> This is for the absolutely incredibly talented emraldmoon!!!
> 
> And big huge thanks to Rrobrien for beta-ing for me :)

Hurt people hurt people.  
  


Ben used to say that after fights with May. He’d get back late at night to find May in the kitchen, stress cleaning as she does, with Peter sitting on the floor by her feet, refusing to go to bed until he knew his aunt and uncle were okay. His face would fall, tears filling his cried-out eyes, and he’d sweep May into his arms, pressing kisses to his forehead and cheeks.  
  


He wouldn’t use it as an excuse, he was better than that. But it was a reason why, a soft explanation as to why he’d gotten angry about the little things. He was hurting, that doesn’t make it okay, but May always expected it like it was an apology.  
  


Peter didn’t realize how close he kept those four words to his chest until he lashed out at Ned one day.  
  


There hadn’t been anything wrong in particular. A regular lunch day, years after the death of his parents, something he thought he had mostly gotten over. As much as he could, at least.  
  


But Ned had started complaining about how overbearing his mom was being, how much his dad would pester him about his homework.  
  


“At least you have parents.” It was meant as a joke originally. A way to lighten the mood a little bit, but it came out bitter and Ned had flinched as though Peter had shouted it.  
  


“You have May and Ben. They love you loads, Peter.”  
  


“They’re not my parents.”  
  


Added to the bitterness was a hint of jealousy, of longing. He knew it was unfair to May and Ben who loved him to the moon and back, they cared for him like he was their own. But as much as they loved him, they still weren’t Mary and Richard. They weren’t his parents.  
  


He remembered them pretty well. Better than May thought he would. She lost her parents at a pretty young age too, but she only remembers them in snippets, in photographs, not in the specific details Peter remembers his.  
  


Mary wore lavender perfume that would hang in the house no matter how long she was away for business, though Peter suspects Richard would spray it just to make sure it didn’t fade.  
  


Richard had an obsession with old baseball cards. He kept them in photo albums, ones Ben kept in his closet after.  
  


When Peter was really little, they used to make sure to take alternating business trips so Peter never had to stay with May and Ben for longer than an afternoon. His aunt and uncle never minded, but Peter was a clingy kid and would get fussy if he was alone for too long.  
  


The fight with Ned had escalated until Peter cried, which made Ned, ever the sympathetic friend, cry too. And they hugged it out.  
  


But what Ben had said hung in Peter’s head.  
  


Hurt people hurt people.  
  


Peter tries harder to be the hurt person that helps people.  
  


No matter how heavy the hurt gets, stuck in his chest with nowhere to go because burdening others is hurting them, he won’t be that person.  
  


*  
  


When Ben dies that fateful night, Peter keeps up that mantra in his head. Hurt people hurt people.  
  


He writes off every fight with May, every night she doesn’t come home, every plead to the landlord when May doesn’t make the bills on time, as just a byproduct of her hurting. He never complains, does all his chores, and convinces Delmar to give him a job after school to help take care of the finances.  
  


The call isn’t much of a surprise.

*

It’s not like Peter ever had much family.  
  


May’s parents died when she was young, Ben’s dad was never really in the picture and his mom had been in a home for a while. There weren’t any other aunts or uncles or cousins. So they shipped him off.  
  


It only took a surprisingly short number of weeks for him to be shifted up to the high-risk category. Everyone thought his late-night escapades superheroing was him being a rebellious kid. They started putting bars on the windows and locks on the door, but he _needed_ to go out as Spider-Man. It was the only thing he had that tied him to his old life. He wasn’t allowed to keep anything, most things went ‘into storage’ which essentially meant that he’d never see them again.  
  


Sneaking out at night, always ending up with cuts and bruises after his late nights, and his never-ending metabolism made it hard to find anything close to a permanent placement.  
  


Weeks turn to months spent bouncing from home to home of people who don’t _care_. Who will come up with any excuse for his social worker to take him elsewhere. Who will lock him in a storage closet that barely passes as a bedroom like he’s some kind of dangerous animal.  
  


As much as he missed May and Ben, and the safety they had provided, he understood well enough that they weren’t going to rescue him. Who he really missed, was Ned. He didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye before he disappeared nearly nine months prior. He hasn’t had access to a phone or a computer, most foster parents don’t even have the time to get him enrolled in school before they were giving him away.  
  


The only upside is that his social worker, a younger woman who’s obviously in over her head with his case, actually seems to care about his well being. She does weekly check-ins and she always answers the calls to get him removed from homes.  
  


He’s heard from other kids in group homes that most of them don’t care as much about them. That it ends differently for them.  
  


He supposes he should consider himself lucky.  
  


*

“They’re saying they don’t have any problems, Peter. That’s a good thing,” Elaine, his social worker, says. Her eyes are all wide and hopeful like she thinks this will be the permanent placement she’s been searching for.  
  


He tries not to roll his eyes, shifting on the old dusty couch with a grimace. “The only reason they’re saying that is because they locked me in a room about the size of a pantry and haven’t spoken a word to me in the past week.”  
  


Somehow this makes her light up even more. “But that means they aren’t _mean_ to you, doesn’t it? They’re planning on enrolling you into a nearby high school and they’re financially stable enough to afford to feed you and everything. This is good!”  
  


“It’s good that they pretend I don’t exist? That they didn’t actually feed me despite having the food? It’s good that they lock me up from six pm until six am every day?” Peter doesn’t miss Elaine’s flinch at his harsh tone. “I know how hard you’re trying, but is this really the best you guys can do?”  
  


Elaine sighs, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s a lot of kids, Peter. And not a lot of people who really want to foster a fourteen-year-old kid who’s got a spotty history at best. Unless you want to go back to a group home until I can find a better placement, this is going to have to do. They already want me to give up on your case because of how much trouble we’ve been having. My bosses want to blame _you_ for this.”  
  


“Right.”  
  


Peter wonders about the kid from before, the version of him that was cheerful and gentle and innocent. The kid that would’ve never been so short and hostile with a woman who was only trying to help him.  
  


He wonders if it’s only going to get worse. Even if this particular foster home keeps him around until he graduates, another three and a half years, he’s never going to have a family again. He’s going to be kicked out at eighteen with nothing more than the clothes on his back and hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt to whatever university he applies to.  
  


Whatever happens, he’s never getting May and Ben back. He’s never going to have his family. He’s going to have to resign to living unhappily with these people who are _never_ going to love him the way his old family did.  
  


“Peter-”  
  


“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m going to suck it up and deal with it. Congratulations, I’m officially off your plate until they get bored of me.”  
  


*

Mrs. and Mr. Williams were dedicated to their jobs as salespeople, Peter guesses. They needed the extra money from the government, fostering a kid, to pay for their long trips worldwide for business purposes. They didn’t want kids, never did, Peter was like an insurance policy. Which meant he was left home alone pretty frequently.  
  


It also meant that they were stressed pretty much all the time. They’d yell at both him and each other. He supposes that’s another reason why they chose to foster him, it takes a lot of the strain off their marriage if they have somebody else to shout at. So they shout, and they insult him, and they get angry over every little thing he does.  
  


Which is _fine_ , really. He’s been through a lot worse than shouting.  
  


He stays quiet whenever Elaine drops by, he doesn’t speak more than a few words to his teachers or to his classmates. He figures it’s easier to stay quiet. It means nobody will yell at him for disobeying or talking back. There’s no risk of getting hurt because he said too much. It’s easier to keep his mouth closed.  
  


And then the few words he speaks, here and there, slowly taper off until he doesn’t talk at all.  
  


It’s easier.  
  


Especially when there are words always on the cusp of being spoken. Words like _I miss May,_ and _it’s all my fault,_ and _help_.  
  


If he were to complain to the faculty about what was going on behind the scenes, he’s sure he’d be taken away.  
  


And taken away meant taken somewhere worse.  
  


He was lucky to be living with people who didn’t hit him very often, who had the _decency_ to enroll him in high school, who were rarely even around anyways, like Elaine said. He was lucky and he couldn’t risk messing up the placement.  
  


If he keeps quiet, he’ll make it through high school, graduate, and get out of the system. He just has to wait it out.  
  


Hurt people hurt people, anyways. So it’s better if he stays quiet, stays small, to prevent the risk of hurting somebody.  
  


So he stays quiet.  
  


*

Peter shoves open the front door, dropping his bag onto the floor. He’s going to be home alone all week and he’s trying to come up with some plan to make it to Midtown and back without his foster parents finding out. He just wants to see Ned again.  
  


“I was starting to get a little bit worried about the absence of a certain spider around the city, but now that I’ve seen _this_ , it’s really not too much of a surprise.”  
  


Peter freezes in the hallway, hands curling into fists as he tries to prepare himself for a fight. He can’t see the owner of the voice, but he’s sure it’s bad if they know his alter ego.  
  


And then the person rounds the corner.  
  


Tony Stark.  
  


_The_ Tony Stark is in his house.  
  


“Now, I was a little confused as to why you were swinging around Queens or Midtown or even Manhattan, when you lived so far away. And then I did a little digging on one Mister Peter Parker. Can you believe the kinds of things I found on you?” he continues. He’s dressed in an outfit more expensive than everything Peter owns, he guesses, though it’s not too hard to do that. And he’s tapping at his watch like he doesn’t even care to look at Peter.  
  


Though he looks up at Peter’s silence.  
  


“A lot,” Tony says. His mouth creases into a frown and he leans against the wall across from Peter. “You’ve been through quite a rough two years, hm?”  
  


Still, Peter doesn’t open his mouth. He doesn’t want to explain to Tony fucking Stark the kind of year he suffered through. More than that though, he doesn’t want to accidentally say too much. He’s worried that the moment he started speaking, he’d never be able to stop. Instead, he simply squints his eyes up at Tony and lifts an eyebrow.  
  


“I’ll cut to the chase. I can’t have vigilantes running around New York unsupervised. Especially not children. So I’m here to offer you a place at the Avengers Compound. Train with the team, come on missions, you know, the whole shebang.”  
  


There’s a lot of questions Peter thinks about asking, answers that he needs, but he just watches as Tony moves from the wall into the kitchen nearby.  
  


“You’re coming with me, kid. End of story. It’s either that or Ross takes you to the Raft, which I’m not going to let happen,” he says, barely glancing over his shoulder. “You’re really not going to talk to me?”  
  


In response, Peter runs a hand through his hair, longer than he normally likes to keep it and choppy from his own haircuts, and heads to his room to grab his belongings.  
  


It’s not like he has much. Over the years of moving from house to house, starting with only a duffel bag, he’s down to just a few things. Things get lost, things get taken, things get confiscated. It’s just the way it goes.  
  


“Imagine if they’d sent someone like Barton here to deal with this,” Tony’s mumbling under his breath when Peter returns with his plastic bag. “Or worse, Barnes. I don’t think you’d be quite so willing to go with anyone less famous.”  
  


Peter ignores him and grabs a loose sheet of paper to write his note. _Not that it matters much, but I’m headed off to live elsewhere. Everything (including Elaine) will be taken care of. -Parker  
  
_

“Social worker?” Tony guesses, peering over Peter’s shoulder at his scrawling chicken scratch. “If so, yeah, I’ll take care of it.”  
  


And that’s it. It’s strangely simple, Peter supposes, but he’s gotten a little _too_ used to being yanked around from house to house by strangers. He’s learned to keep his head down and stay quiet, because it’s never mattered what he thinks or wants, so there’s no point in voicing it.  
  


He slips into the backseat of an overly flashy car, plastic bag clutched to his chest, and he tries his best to keep from crying.  
  


He hugs the plastic bag to him and pretends the weight against his chest is somebody else. He pretends it’s May holding him close, or Ben tugging him into a hug, or Ned’s arm slung around him. He pretends he’s not desperate to be hugged, to be touched even fleetingly, accidentally, by anyone. He pretends that everything is fine as the house falls away behind him and his life changes again.  
  


*

Tony disappears only minutes after the car is parked outside the Avengers Compound, leaving Peter in the hands of Happy.  
  


Thankfully, Happy barely says a word to him, meaning Peter isn’t put in any awkward situations when he doesn’t reply.  
  


Apparently, Peter gets half a floor to himself, shared with Bruce Banner though he hasn’t lived in the compound in years. After so long being given poor excuses for bedrooms, normally shared with at least a few other people, it’s shocking to have a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and office all to himself.  
  


The space, despite being like heaven compared to the closets and basement he’s used to, makes the emptiness of it all the more apparent.  
  


He’s living by himself.  
  


It’s like Elaine had told him about emancipation. It might make him feel like he’s in control, it might give him a permanent home, but it takes away any possibility of a family.  
  


He finds himself ignoring the freedom of the situation, and instead, curling up in the huge bed, tucking a pillow to his chest and wrapping himself in blankets. Finally, in the safety of a bedroom with no threats, no responsibilities, no fear, he lets himself cry.  
  


*

Tony comes up to find him later that day with general rules and information. The school he’s enrolled in, when Elaine will visit, what times Peter has to meet in the gym with the team for training, what parts of the tower he’s allowed in, curfew, etc.  
  


It’s all pretty basic.  
  


With how often Peter’s been jerked around from home to home, rules get kind of repetitive. The only difference between the Compound and other homes is instead of bars on the window, the Compound has FRIDAY who tracks his every move.  
  


The only positive is that Tony doesn’t seem too bothered by Peter’s silence. He talks enough for both of them.  
  


Until he gets to the end of his speech and sits down across from Peter at the dining room table.  
  


“I know you’re into this whole mysterious silence thing, but I’m going to need you to at least nod so I know you’ve understood. Now that you’re under _my_ roof, you’re my responsibility. I can’t have you running around the streets of New York unsupervised and making mistakes when _your_ actions reflect on me.”  
  


And Peter nods, refusing to meet Tony’s eye, and keeping his arms crossed over his chest defensively. Apparently, it’s enough because Tony sighs and his shoulders relax drastically.  
  


“Alright, well now that we’re through with that, I’m going to make dinner here for both of us. I don’t care if you retreat to your room until I leave, I’m going to make sure you’ve got food to eat tonight.”  
  


As much as Peter does want to disappear to _his_ bedroom and avoid the awkward attempts at a one-sided conversation or inquiries about the life Tony’s read about, he craves the closeness to another person.  
  


The last time he felt properly close to someone was May. Every home in between had people who tried or people who didn’t, either way, it never felt the same. He was just another mouth to feed, another set of house visits and questionnaires from Elaine, another troubled kid under their roof. He was never treated like a human being, like a kid.  
  


Yet Tony’s in the kitchen, muttering to himself about potential allergies and groceries, someone who’s let him under his roof and is cooking with him in mind. Somebody who _chose_ him. Even if it might be for his alter-ego.  
  


It still feels good.  
  


It feels good to be _wanted_.  
  


“Hey, kid?” Tony calls out from the kitchen where he’s ruffling through one of the pantries. “You allergic to anything I should know about?”  
  


Peter shakes his head, mouth opening to give an explanation of how the spider-bite was the reason he’s no longer allergic to tree nuts or shellfish, but he quickly clamps his mouth shut. As much as he likes the feeling of being wanted, as much as he wants to fall into the safety of having Tony around, he can’t let his guard down. All it’ll do is hurt him.  
  


“Good,” Tony says without realizing Peter’s near-slip. “I can make a pretty mean pasta dish.”  
  


They fall into silence, the most comfortable silence Peter can remember having in a really long time. Tony cooks and Peter watches him, trying not to look like he cares too much, and it’s fine. Good, even.  
  


And when Tony sits across from him again, setting plates down in front of both of them, it feels so much better than the simple, probably thoughtless gesture Tony was going for. He hasn’t had somebody make him dinner and let him eat with them in what feels like ages. Normally, a plate is left in the microwave for him and he’s watched until he’s finished so they can lock him in his bedroom for the night.  
  


“I know you’re not going to talk to me,” Tony starts quietly, eyes narrowed in thought, “And I know this isn’t fair, none of it, but just know, I didn’t want to take you away without your permission. Ross is technically the boss and he was planning on locking all mutants and vigilantes up. I convinced him we could use you on our team instead of on the Raft.”  
  


Peter nods and tries his best to offer a small, comforting smile in return.  
  


He wants to reassure Tony that this is better than every house he’s lived in for over a year, that his past houses were probably closer to whatever the Raft is like than the luxuries of the Compound, even if it means following the strict schedules and conditions.  
  


“And I don’t want you to think that just because you’ve been given this whole floor with all this freedom that you’re alone, alright? You’re always welcome up onto my floor, I’m just as lonely as you are, kid, and I’d always enjoy your company in my lab or kitchen.”  
  


It’s a small olive branch, an optional opportunity to make this arrangement a little more personal, turn it into a friendship or something of the sort, and Peter’s whole chest warms at the idea of having somebody like that in his life.  
  


They fall into silence while they finish eating their food and Tony clears their plates away. On his way to the elevator, he stops at the last second.  
  


“Seven am, Happy will be waiting in the garage for you tomorrow to take you to school. And he’ll be in the parking lot at two-thirty to collect you in the afternoon. If you can’t meet your conditions for living here with the Avengers, there will be consequences, so please, just go to your classes, don’t cause trouble.”  
  


Before Peter even has the chance to nod, the doors are sliding shut behind Tony, leaving Peter alone.  
  


*

The first week living with Tony is strange, to say the least.  
  


Peter doesn’t have the confidence to try anything outside of the schedule he’s been set, going to and from school with Happy, and staying cooped up inside his room for the rest of the afternoon and evening. And then, Tony comes down to see him in the late evening to cook them both dinner and to make one-sided small talk.  
  


No Spider-Man, no secret trips to try to find Ned, no sneaking out or skipping class, nothing. He tries his best to be a model student and child.  
  


At school, he keeps his head down, mouth shut, and doesn’t give anybody any reasons to pick on him.  
  


Elaine shows up on Saturday morning, early enough that Peter’s just barely woken up when FRIDAY alerts him about the elevator arriving at his floor.  
  


He greets his social worker with a small smile and sits down with Tony on the couch across from her, trying not to let the blush that creeps up his neck be too obvious at his old Thor pyjama pants and t-shirt with a science pun.  
  


“The move was… unexpected to say the least, but I’m not too surprised. I didn’t think your last home would last much longer as is,” Elaine starts, looking down at her binder. “Well you’ve easily passed the house inspection and there are some things I want to go over with your lawyers, but the most important part is what the two of you think.”  
  


Tony immediately jumps to answer. “He’s a good kid. Independent, smart, nice. I like having him around.”  
  


“Peter?”  
  


Unsurprisingly, Peter stays quiet. He feels frozen with his fear that if he says anything wrong, Elaine will deem this unfit and take him away, whisk him away to another group home or somewhere else with people who don’t _want_ him.  
  


Elaine gives him her binder, a lined sheet on the top with a pen clipped to it. “I need you to be honest, okay?”  
  


_Better here than most places. Tony’s nice. Going to school and being fed.  
  
_

He knows exactly what he needs to say for her to check off the boxes. Education, food, and his approval. Simple and easy.  
  


Tony’s leg is bouncing when he passes the binder back, though he shouldn’t have a reason to worry. If Peter said something bad, Ross would hunt him down and lock him up, that much Tony had made very clear.  
  


“Good, good, good,” Elaine mumbles, tucking the paper away. “Well, that’s enough information for now, I think. I’ll give you more time to settle in and get comfortable together.”  
  


Peter stays sitting while Tony escorts Elaine to the elevator and he looks relieved when he returns to find the teenager still waiting in the living room.  
  


“Listen, kid, I know this isn’t the easiest for you. I know you’ve had a really tough year. And believe me, I’m _awful_ at trying to talk about emotions or feelings or anything like that, but you’re one of us now. You’re part of the team and I’m technically your foster parent right now, so if you need anything, and I mean _anything_ , you can come to me, alright? Even if you don’t want to talk out loud.”  
  


For the first time in a very long time, Peter’s smile feels genuine.  
  


He pushes down the urge to hug Tony, to give in to the cravings for physical affection, and ducks off to his bedroom, trying his best to hide the pleased blush on his cheeks.  
  


*

His opportunity comes on a Friday afternoon when one of his classes is let out early, a few months into his arrangement with Tony. He’d spent a better part of his night scrolling through social media on his brand new Stark Phone and found out which high school Ned was attending. They’re both sophomores now, but they haven’t seen each other since middle school.  
  


He made sure his spider suit, made of an old sweater, fingerless gloves, and sweatpants, was tucked into the bottom of his backpack.  
  


Nobody noticed him sneaking out through the back doors, changing into his suit in a nearby alleyway, or casually swinging through the streets of Manhattan on his way to Midtown.  
  


It’s pretty obvious that Tony will find him eventually. He has the best technology on his side. But Peter’s banking on having at least an hour before Tony finds out. It’ll give him enough time to let Ned know he’s alive at the very least.  
  


Ned’s the same as he always was. Smiling brighter than ever and answering every question the teacher asks, chatting quietly to everybody around him.  
  


“Holy shit,” somebody stage-whispers. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes are on him, leaning against the lockers opposite the classroom door, back in his civvies. “Is that Stark’s new project?”  
  


Ned’s head jerks up and his eyes go comically wide as he sees his best friend in the hallway. “Peter!”  
  


Thankfully, the teacher doesn’t even try to stop Ned from barreling out of the classroom and right into Peter’s arms.  
  


“God, I was looking for you for _months_ after you left school that one day and never came back! I called you and May like a million times before I saw the newspaper.”  
  


There’s something about Ned and his overflowing optimism and kind wide-eyes that makes Peter feel safer than he has in a long time. It makes him feel safe enough to finally open his mouth.  
  


“I’m sorry I couldn’t get in touch with you,” Peter says, not even surprised by his constant apologies. His voice is hoarse and low from disuse, but it’s obvious how happy he is. “May got in an accident after work, she started working such late hours that she wasn’t as careful as she should’ve been. I got put in the foster system.”  
  


Ned’s jaw drops and he grabs Peter’s arm, leading him down the hallway until they reach an empty bathroom to give them a little bit of privacy.  
  


“I’m just so glad you’re okay!” Ned quickly drags Peter into another tight hug like he has to check and make sure Peter’s real. “You disappeared and I had no way of knowing where you were. Where do you live now? Is everything okay? How’d you get here?”  
  


Smiling, Peter leans in closer, voice dropping low. “You’re never going to believe me, but I swear, it’s the truth. One, I’m Spider-Man. Two, I live with _the_ Tony Stark. And three, I’m an Avenger.”  
  


As soon as Ned pulls back, frowning in disbelief, Peter puts his hand on the wall to prove his stickiness. He even crawls up onto the ceiling to prove it before dropping back to the floor in front of his gaping best friend.  
  


“Oh my god.”  
  


“I- I’m going to get in a lot of trouble for coming here, I’m on a very strict set of rules, but do you want to come back to the Compound with me? I’ll catch you up on everything when we get there.”  
  


Ned, practically bursting at the seams with enthusiasm, agrees heartily before pulling out his phone to call his mom and let her know where he’s going. While he does that, he texts Happy the address of Midtown High without any context. He figures there’s no way around getting in trouble for ditching school, so he may as well own up to it.  
  


And at least this way, Ned can explain everything to Tony while Peter continues to deal with his inability to talk to adults.

By the time they slide into the backseat of the expensive car, Peter’s exhausted. The emotional toll of seeing his best friend for the first time in a year paired with the anxiety that eats away at his insides is enough to make him crave a nap.  
  


Happy stares at Ned for a long time through the mirror, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a frown, before he finally starts driving.  
  


“Uh, sir?” Ned squeaks, eyes wide. “Peter said he was going to get in trouble for this, but I feel like you deserve an explanation for-”  
  


“One, I’m not the one doling out punishments, I’m just a glorified babysitter. Two, Peter _said_?”  
  


Peter swallows thickly, turns his attention out the window, and tries his best not to curl even smaller in his seat.  
  


Ned’s eyes dart over to him before focusing back on Happy. “Yes, sir. I was just-”  
  


And then the glass slides up between the seats, effectively cutting him off.  
  


“It’s okay,” Peter murmurs without looking at him. “He doesn’t mean any harm. You’ll have to appeal to Mister Stark, not Happy.”  
  


Ned, forever the great friend that he is, reaches out and grabs Peter’s hand, linking them together in a small gesture of comfort.   
  


  
*  
  
Tony’s waiting at the dining room table for them and he stands when they walk in. He’s obviously angry and Peter knows how this story goes. Maybe he gets sent away to another foster home, maybe he gets sent to the Raft with Ross. Either way, he’s just glad he got to see Ned.  
  


“Mister Stark, sir?” Ned starts before Tony can. Peter admires that kind of confidence. “Before you say anything, I just want to explain.”  
  


Tony’s eyes narrow, but he still waves a hand for Ned to continue.  
  


“I’ve known Peter since we were seven. We went to school together.” There’s no good place to start a story like this, one that ends sad no matter where it begins. “After May’s accident, he was sent away and he had no way to contact me. I spent the better part of a year wondering where he was, what happened to him, why he wouldn’t answer my calls and texts. We were best friends for eight years, and then he disappeared. He just wanted to see me.”  
  


It’s a simple way to put a tragedy.  
  


“Is that true?”  
  


Peter nods, trying his best not to look incredibly defensive but crossing his arms over his chest anyways.  
  


“It is. And it would’ve hit the news eventually, Mister Stark. If Peter hadn’t come to me, I would’ve been trying to break in to see him.”  
  


As kids, Ned was the least confident person Peter knew. He never stood up for himself or even tried to explain himself, he’d take every punishment he didn’t deserve, he’d keep his head down and accept whatever came to him without question.  
  


Now, Ned stands tall and strong in front of Peter, easily defending him to their childhood hero.  
  


Tony sighs harshly, sliding a hand over his face and finally sitting down in a chair at the dining room table. “Sit. Both of you.”  
  


They do as told, both of them expecting a punishment of some sort for the rules they’ve broken.  
  


“I don’t want to be the villain here,” Tony says. He’s watching Peter who’s leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, arms crossed, and eyes focused on the table like none of this matters. “I don’t want to make you feel like you’re not allowed to do anything but stay cooped up here like this is prison. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not allowed to try to get your life back. I don’t want you to feel like you have to walk on eggshells to ensure your safety.”  
  


Peter forces himself to nod. The anxiety still thrums in his veins, stomach twisting and knotting, but the more Tony speaks to him, the more inclined Peter is to trust him.  
  


Beside him, Ned’s shoulders slump noticeably. “So Peter’s not in trouble? He told me that he’s on a very strict set of rules and that there would be consequences if he broke them.”  
  


“He _told_ you that?” Tony’s eyebrows have lifted, eyes flicking between the two of them. “He said that? With words?”  
  


“Well yeah. He said that you’re keeping him here to train Spider-Man.”  
  


Tony’s eyebrows lift even more. “He said that. He hasn’t spoken a single word to anybody in _months_ according to his social worker, and he tells you every secret he’s got within a couple hours?”  
  


Underneath the table, away from Tony’s view, Ned links their hands together again. “I’m his best friend.”  
  


It’s so simply put that Peter can’t help the smile that ghosts over his face, squeezing Ned’s hand.  
  


Tony sighs again, running a hand through his hair. “You’re both off the hook, but please, for the love of god, text me or Happy the next time you want to do something. Don’t just run off.”  
  


“Yes, sir,” Ned says on Peter’s behalf who can’t seem to get the smile off his face. “Oh! I don’t know if this is what Peter wants, but he’s a genius and I really think he’d be happier at my school.”  
  


“You break the rules, plead forgiveness, and when I, out of the goodness of my heart, let you off with just a warning, you want to ask for _more_?”  
  


Ned winces, eyes round and hand sweating in Peter’s, but he plows ahead. “Midtown High is a great school. I’d be there, so Peter wouldn’t have to run off anymore, _and_ in case you weren’t aware, Peter is really smart. Like crazy smart. He’d be properly challenged at Midtown.”  
  


With a roll of his eyes, Tony waves his hand at them. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”  
  


They both hurry up to their feet, prepared to make a run for Peter’s room if need-be, but Tony stops them at the last second.  
  


“Ned?” The poor kid’s eyes look like they’re seconds away from popping out in fear, but Tony smiles fondly. “You’re welcome anytime. Let me know if you two want snacks or anything.”  
  


They both nod, grinning unashamedly, and take off for Peter’s room before they can get stopped again.  
  


  
*  
  
  
Peter finally bites the bullet after Ned goes home.  
  


He takes the elevator up to Tony’s floor.  
  


It’s not like he hates Tony or anything. He’s been idolizing the hero for as long as he can remember and Tony’s been nothing but welcoming since Peter started living with him. It’s been weird, sure, but Tony seems to genuinely care about the kid under the mask.  
  


“Kid?” Tony’s bent over one of the lab benches in his giant lab, goggles sitting lopsided on his face, and grease staining his old shirt. “Everything okay?”  
  


Peter realizes belatedly, frozen in the doorway to the lab, that he _wants_ to talk to Tony. He craves normalcy and he’s desperate for an adult in his life. An adult who supports him, who wants him, who will take care of him. It’s all he’s ever wanted since May died.  
  


Tony’s still watching him, almost like Peter’s a wounded animal, hands suspended in the air like he wants to comfort him but doesn’t know how.  
  


“Mister Stark?” His voice isn’t as hoarse as it had been after his afternoon talking to Ned, but it’s still weak and shaking, more with trepidation than anything. “Is it, um, is it okay if I hang out in here for a little bit?”  
  


The billionaire’s whole body sags with relief, expression softening and a small smile lifting his mouth. “Of course it is, kiddo. And if your friend’s right about what a genius you are, you can even help me out with this.”  
  


Slowly, Peter shifts into the lab and up to Tony’s side, trying not to show how badly his hands are trembling. He also tries to hide how much the small nudge of Tony’s arm against his soothes his anxieties.  
  


Almost as much as he craves an adult who wants him, he craves affection. May and Ben used to hand out affection like it was nothing. Hugs were given at least twice a day, Ben would blow raspberries against any piece of exposed skin, May would give out kisses especially to his forehead constantly. It was normal. But he hasn’t gotten any of that in what feels like forever.  
  


He helps Tony with his projects, hands clumsy and voice wobbly, relaxing more and more the longer they work together.  
  


Despite how much he craves all of this, it still doesn’t feel like enough. It’s like putting a bandaid over a wound that needs twelve stitches. It’s like writing one word of an essay that needs pages filled. It doesn’t work, it barely helps, the gaping hole in Peter’s chest still feels empty and cold.  
  


And then Tony makes a stupid pun that borders on a dad joke, and then suggests they order some pizza for dinner. Like they’re a real family.  
  


An hour or so later, they’ve got pizza on the coffee table and Netflix on the TV, trying to find something to watch.  
  


Peter feels happy for the first time in a long time. Ned’s back, he’s got Tony who seems to already want to be here for the long haul, he’s got a roof over his head and food on the table, he’s laughing quietly over Tony weighing the pros and cons of the movies he’s stuck between. It’s nice.  
  


Later, when the movie finishes, he drifts towards Tony, almost subconsciously, until his head lands on Tony’s shoulder, eyes already slipping shut. Tony’s arm wraps around his shoulders and he presses a kiss to Peter’s temple.  
  


“Can I ask you something?” Peter says, voice barely above a whisper. He keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to see the way the question will make everything change.  
  


“Shoot.”  
  


“Is this… Is this for real? Will I get to stay forever?”  
  


Peter can feel Tony’s smile against his hair, and his hand squeezes Peter’s shoulder. “You’re part of the team now, kiddo. And I hate to say it, but I’ve grown particularly attached to my Spider-Kid. I’m going to talk to Elaine and see what I can do to make this official. I’ve got a new and improved Spider-Suit waiting for you. And I’ve enrolled you in Midtown starting Monday.”  
  


“So you’re going to be like my dad?” His voice is barely there, insecure, small.  
  


Tony swallows audibly, nerves evident in his voice. “Yeah, I suppose so, bud. Is that okay?”  
  


“More than okay.”  
  


Hurt people hurt people, Ben had said.  
  


But maybe that’s not the case. Peter’s hurt, he’s always been a hurt person, but he seems to be doing a pretty good job at not hurting the people close to him. He can talk, he can _feel_ , he can be, without worrying about the consequences, without worrying about everyone leaving him. Tony’s promised to be here and that’s enough to make Peter feel safe.  
  


“Thank you,” he says, blinking back tears. For the first time in a long time, they’re happy tears. There’s more he wants to say, more he needs to say, but he knows Tony understands. After all, Tony’s been through a lot too. He knows more than he lets on about pain and hurting people.  
  


“Things will get easier.” It’s said with such simplicity, such confidence, that Peter can’t help but believe it. Things are already easier, he’s no longer as scared about falling because he knows Tony will catch him when he does. As Spider-Man and as Peter Parker. Because Tony _wants_ him and that’s all that Peter’s ever needed.  
  


Tony’s arm is tight around Peter’s shoulders and his voice is sure as he murmurs a _goodnight_ into Peter’s hair, and the cold, empty hole in Peter’s chest finally feels full and warm with love.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](https://lyssismagical.tumblr.com/)


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